Wrong Number
by Bespectacled BriarRose
Summary: Oliver has a tendency to dial the wrong number while drunk. It's always the same number, and he never remembers who she is the next morning. Olicity AU
1. Chapter 1

_July 31, 2004_

 **Oliver**

Oliver was sitting on the couch in the living room, bottle of vodka dangling from his hand, top few buttons of his shirt wide open, and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Tommy was splayed on the couch next to him, whining about how his dad had taken his key to the Ferrari away _again_. Oliver swigged from the bottle, feeling his head swim a bit more than it had been before.

"I was supposed to take this total bombshell out for a drive tomorrow," he griped. "She's expecting a Ferrari. Ollie, what am I supposed to do?" Tommy was drinking bourbon, not one of the top shelf brands, but pretty damn good for a middle shelf brand. Mr. Merlyn had locked up all of his top-shelf whiskey after Tommy threw a rager and did body shots with it.

"I don't know, Tommy. Take the Mustang. Or the Caddy. I've got my own problems, dipshit," groaned Oliver. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a phone number scrawled on an old receipt and threw it down on the table next to the receipt with Tommy's girl's number on it. "I got this number at that party last night, and I can't remember if I fucked her or not, which means I don't know if I need to call." He took another long pull from the bottle, acknowledging the fact that the vodka didn't burn down his throat the way it was supposed to as a solid indicator that he was probably drunker than he had intended to get.

"She's like a sexy librarian, all soft curves'n button-up blouses with these gorgeous blue eyes an' glasses," sighed Tommy, pausing to take a very long pull from the bottle of Redemption in his hand. "Y'know what? I can't let this pass me by, ya know? I think 'mgonna call her'n ask her what kinda car she'd wanna see." Tommy swiped up the receipt with his girl's number and ran off to dial her number bottle of Redemption dangling from his fingers as he went. Oliver took another swig from the bottle of vodka before grunting to himself and grabbing the other receipt off the table. He punched the number into his phone and held it to his ear.

 **Felicity**

Felicity was curled up in bed with her well-loved copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix resting open in front of her as her roommate went on and on about how romantic Romeo and Juliet was. Felicity rolled her eyes and turned the page in her book, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Fee, you _have_ to see how absolutely perfect it is that Romeo would give her such a beautiful speech," argued Carrie, pushing her red hair back behind her ear. "God, I want to marry myself a man like that. But I guess I'll settle for Oliver Queen, if he ever calls me."

Felicity rolled her eyes; her roommate was a sweet girl, but creepily obsessive at times. Suddenly, Carrie's phone rang, and she squealed before running out into the hall and answering it. A few minutes later, Felicity's phone rang. She grinned to herself; she was expecting a call from the cute guy named Tommy she had met at the coffee shop. He had claimed he had a Ferrari, but Felicity honestly just liked him for who he was: funny and awkward and cute. She clicked answer on her Nokia and held it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey babe, I was wondering if you wanted to hook up again sometime; that was really fun," said a gruff voice. Felicity's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me?" her voice rose in pitch, incredulous. "Who the hell is this?"

"Um, it's Oliver? Do-do you not remember?" the guy, Oliver, sounded so confused. "Oh, fucking hell. Is this the wrong number? Did I grab the wrong number? Goddammit, hold on a second. You're a blonde with glasses, right? Tommy wouldn't shut up about you."

"Um, it-it's fine?" she stuttered, confused.

"Tommy!" Oliver yelled, presumably holding the phone away from his face, as the sound was muffled. "Tommy, hang up the phone, I've got your girl here! You grabbed the wrong number!" There was a loud 'bang' from Oliver's end of the phone, and Felicity winced.

"Everyone okay over there?" she asked, marking her page in the book and closing the cover.

"Yeah, yeah. He's fine. He's on the phone with the girl I met the other night, and she's howling mad. Also, he's pretty drunk, just so you know. Well, actually so am I, but, you know, that's not really-"

"Wait, the girl you're trying to hook up with is mad?" asked Felicity, unfolding herself from her spot on her bed and moving closer to the door. She heard Carrie whispering furiously. "You wouldn't happen to be Oliver Queen, would you? I'd take that phone from Tommy _now_ before Carrie flips a shit on you and cuts your, well, _little friend_ off."

"My dick is not little," he practically growled into the phone before there were scuffling sounds and a couple yelps.

"Everything good over there?" she asked again, moving back to her bed to curl up again.

"Felicity?" asked a different voice, this one softer, more confused, and actually familiar. Felicity smiled; _this_ was her cute boy.

"Hey Tommy. How are you?"

"Drunk. M'dad took the keys to the F'rrari," he slurred. "What kinda cars d'you like?"

"I'm a simple Vegas girl. Surprise me." Felicity smiled as she began to talk to Tommy. Who was, weirdly, even cuter drunk.

"Well, there's th'Caddy, but I think the Mustang might be more t'your liking," he replied. Felicity, laughing, curled her feet up under her and pulled her pillow to her chest.

 _A/N- Hey loves! This is going to be structured similarly to_ Are You Okay, Oliver? _and will probably be around six or so chapters, and updated weekly (or as well as I can while working). I hope you enjoy this fic! All my love-Rose_


	2. Chapter 2

_May 16, 2006_

 **Oliver**

"Ollie!" called Laurel from across the room, shoving her way through the crowd and wrapping her arm around Oliver's waist as she went up onto her toes to speak into his ear in the loud room. "I've got class in the morning, so I'm leaving. Call me if you need anything, alright?" Oliver turned his head and kissed her sloppily. He was happily drunk, far too drunk to really care that his girlfriend was leaving.

"Okay," he said. "See you later." He pulled her close for a hug and then let her go, watching as she walked away in her tight jeans and heels. He sort of just stood there, not really doing much of anything as he zoned out and thought about him and Laurel. He liked having her to go to when he was otherwise alone, but was he really doing her right? He actively cheated on her on a regular basis. He was shaken out of his drunken musings by Tommy stumbling into him and nearly spilling a glass of scotch on him before righting and downing it.

"Damn, Oliver, what're you standin' over here lookin' so sappy for?" slurred Tommy, wrapping his arm over Oliver's shoulders. "You missin' your girl already?"

Oliver shoved at the off-balance Tommy before laughing. "Nah, I'm good. More shots!" he called out over the din, and everyone cheered. He got ahold of two shot glasses filled to the brim with vodka and held one out to Tommy. "To another crazy night," he said.

"To my best friend, may you never become too old to party!" cried Tommy, tapping his glass against Oliver's before knocking back the clear alcohol. Oliver grinned at his best friend before following suit and swallowing the liquid. It went down his throat like a drink of water, which he supposed meant he was getting dangerously drunk. He set his shot glass down and looked past Tommy to see Sara Lance, Laurel's younger sister, looking at him. Her blue eyes glinted with something he was fully prepared to ignore for the moment. "Hey, Ollie, let's do some body shots!" crowed Tommy, moving towards the kitchen area of the apartment that the two boys had for parties.

 **.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

Oliver stumbled out of one of the bedrooms a few hours later, zipping his pants up and running a hand through his hair. Damn, that had been fun. He felt a twinge of guilt for cheating on Laurel, but he quickly dismissed it. He was Oliver Queen, and who was he to deny the girls that threw themselves at him? He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped in his driver's phone number from memory before stumbling down the hallway with the phone pressed to his ear.

 **Felicity**

Felicity was curled up on the couch in her apartment with a glass of wine in her hand as her roommate sprawled over the armchair in the corner of the room.

"Ugh, 'Liss, this is crazy. I worked _twelve hours_ on that code for the homepage of that site, and now Steele wants me to change it! Gah, what the hell am I supposed to do?" griped Angela, her dark hair flopping over her face. Felicity rolled her eyes at the twenty-three year old's dramatics. She only hoped that she would be as gripe-y when she was Angela's coworker in a few years. Queen Consolidated wouldn't hire her because she was under twenty one, but she had pretty much gotten a guaranteed place in their IT department when she had visited Angie one day and fixed a major virus that had the IT department scrambling around like panicked ants.

"What does he want you to change about it?" asked Felicity, turning down the volume on the reruns of "Firefly" she was watching. "Because I could help you if it's the whole thing that needs re-doing."

Angela grinned at the blonde. "I think he just wants me to tweak the menu settings and the like. But it's just frustrating because I followed his list to the tee, and now he wants to make adjustments. It's a good thing I didn't send it live before I had him review it," she said, getting up to go get herself a drink. Felicity grinned at the computer graphics artist, finishing off her glass of wine.

"Want to bring me the bottle of Red Zin in the fridge?" she called just as her cell started to ring. "Hello?" she asked tentatively, not having recognized the number.

"Jasper?" slurred a masculine voice. "C'n you pick me up from th' apartment? Mom's gonna kill me if I'm not home in th' mornin'."

"Well, I'm certainly not Jasper, and I've been drinking, so I can't really pick you up," she replied, the wine having loosened her tongue enough to joke with the drunk stranger on the other end.

"Ah, dammit. 'M sorry," he slurred. "D'ya know if you could call me a cab, cause 'm not sure I can call Jasper to gimme a ride?"

Felicity pulled her phone away from her face to give it a funny look. She put it back to her ear and said, "I don't even know your name, let alone where you are. Though you can't be far; it's a local area code. I mean, I suppose I could? But it would be totally weird, and I'm not sure if I'm that sort of weird, ya know?" She heard herself babbling and quickly clammed up. She knew she was too good of a person to strand this drunken idiot on the other end of the phone, but hesitant all the same.

The man on the other end was pouting; Felicity could hear it in his voice when he spoke next, "But then how 'm I gonna get home?"

Felicity pushed her glasses up slightly to rub at the bridge of her nose. "Fine. But you gotta tip the cabbie extra, promise?"

"Cross my heart an' hope to die."

"Alright, who and where?" Felicity gestured to Angela, who pulled out her phone and dialed Starling's cab company.

"Oliver Queen, and I'm at, ah dammit, Tommy! What's the fuckin' address?" he yelled. Felicity froze. Oliver _Queen_? And – oh my God, he must be talking to the Tommy who took her on a date a couple years ago. The date had been fun, but they had decided after a few weeks of talking that dating wouldn't be the best idea for the two of them.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she started laughing. "This cannot be happening again." Angela was looking at her like she was crazy.

"Again? Whaddaya mean?" asked Oliver, disgruntled as Tommy yelled from somewhere in the background.

"It's not a big deal," she gasped, out of breath from laughing so hard. "Just tell me the address so I can send the cab."

"Alright? Tommy says it's 1478 West Valley Avenue. In Starling City. Why are ya laughin' still?" Oliver sounded disgruntled.

"Just tell Tommy that Felicity Smoak says hi and wouldn't mind grabbing coffee sometime," she said. "I'm sending the cab. Get home safe." She hung up the phone and took a sip of wine, still laughing to herself.

"You want to explain why Oliver Queen just called you? And why you just asked Tommy Merlyn on a date? And why you're laughing?" asked Angela, glass of wine in hand.

"He drunk dialed me. Again," was all Felicity said.

 _A/N- Hi guys! I hope you enjoy this awkward chapter! I realized this chapter that I was really fudging around with Felicity's canonic age, but I don't care very much. I'm going to keep updating this on Tuesdays, but I'm also going to intersperse the week with a few one shots and maybe the start of another story, mostly in different ships and stuff. I love you all! -Rose_


	3. Chapter 3

_September 29, 2010_

 **Oliver**

Oliver was sitting in a bar in a small city in China, knocking back shot after shot of báijiǔ. He pulled his hat down lower on his head to hide his face more, still aware of his need to be anonymous through his drunken haze. He slapped down some yuan on the bar before nodding to the bartender and slouching out of the bar. He wandered back to the room he was staying in, above a small tailor shop.

He greeted the old woman he was renting the room from before closing the door and flopping down on his bed. The mattress was thin and not at all like anything his family had back in Starling. But it was so much better than the island. He fished out a bottle of American whiskey that he had bought from a guy on the black market, popped the seal, and took a swig.

"Nǐ hái hǎo ma, Smoak xiānshēng?" asked the old woman, Zhang Lian. She was kind, and asked few questions about an American fluent in Mandarin who looked homeless and had quite a few yuan in his pocket.

"Shì de, xièxiè nǐ de guānxīn, zhāng tàitài," he replied. He felt slightly bad for being a drunk guest in a stranger's home, but, then, he was too drunk to care. He took a swig from the bottle as there was another knock on the door.

"Is polite to share, is true?" called Mrs. Zhang through the door. Oliver smiled to himself as he rolled off of the bed and opened the door to see the elderly Chinese woman smiling. "Come. We eat. We drink. And you help clean tomorrow." Oliver nodded as he followed his host to the table, where a myriad of bowls of food waited.

"Xièxiè," said Oliver as he sat down, setting the whiskey next to a bottle of báijiǔ.

 **.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

Oliver stumbled back to his room a few hours later after carrying the passed-out Mrs. Zhang to her room. The two of them had spent hours laughing and eating, while Mrs. Zhang regaled Oliver with stories of her youth, and Oliver recounted some of his and Tommy's more sordid adventures from back in Starling. He pulled the burn phone he was currently using out from under his pile of shirts and flipped it open. It was relatively cheap, but it did the job. He sat, staring at it. God, he missed Tommy and Laurel and Thea and Sara more than ever. A tear rolled down his cheek as his vision blurred. He knew he shouldn't, but he sloppily punched in Laurel's phone number and hit 'call'. He pressed the phone to his ear as he fell back on the bed and the room started spinning.

The other end clicked as someone picked up, and a disgruntled female voice said, "Hello?"

 **Felicity**

Felicity rolled deeper into the warm blankets covering her body. She cracked an eye open as the sun got in her eyes. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head as the guy she was with shuffled around to look for his clothes.

"Be quiet, Dick," she mumbled as she pulled the covers higher over her head.

Dick chuckled as he moved around the room. Felicity was just settling back into a comfortable doze when something landed on her. Dick chuckled lowly in her ear. "You up for some fun this morning, Felicity?" She grinned as he pressed her into the mattress.

"Sounds like a plan, Grayson," she said as she nipped at his lower lip. He groaned and leaned down to kiss her, his nose brushing against hers. She tilted her neck back slightly to get a better angle, and, just as their lips met, Katy Perry started blaring throughout the room. They jumped, hitting their heads together. "Ach, sorry Dick. Just let me tell them to fuck off," grumbled Felicity getting out of bed and rummaging through the clothes on the floor to find her phone. She dug out the sparkly pink Sidekick and clicked answer. "Hello?" she almost growled into the phone.

"Thea? Is tha'you? It-it's Ollie," came the sad, pathetic, and annoyingly familiar yet unrecognizable voice.

"No. It's not. You've got the wrong number, 'Ollie'," she growled.

"Oh. I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, words slurred. "Just, if you ever get th' chance, please tell m'sister Thea Queen that I'm not dead an' tha' I love her." Felicity froze and was about to speak when the line went dead. She set down the phone and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You alright, sweetheart?" asked Dick, moving to rub Felicity's shoulders.

"I-I think I just got drunk dialed by a dead man," she whispered, turning around on the bed, her blue eyes watering. She buried her face in Dick's shoulder as she started to cry.

 _A/N- Hello, loves! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have the next one partway done, and I'm working on a DarcyxBucky fic, too. I love you all -Rose_


	4. Chapter 4

_July 30, 2012_

 **Oliver**

Oliver sat in his old bedroom, looking around. Nothing in this room felt like home anymore. Not quite sure what else to do, he got up off the desk chair, stripped off his shirt, and headed towards the bathroom to shower, leaving the rest of his clothes in a trail across the floor as he went. He left the door open and turned on the shower, letting the hot water pelt down and become a reasonable temperature before stepping under the spray. He poured a generous amount of soap into his hand and began to scrub at his skin. He felt like he was still covered in the dirt and grime of the island. The thought of the box under his bed, with Yao-Fei – no, _his_ – bow was haunting him. He knew he had a job to do, but he couldn't make himself act like Ollie again when the island and Hong Kong and _everything_ had wormed its way under his skin so that he couldn't focus. He needed to be able to act like he was less damaged than he was. Nobody could know about the killing or the list or the box with the green hood and deadly weapon under his bed. So he scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to wash the feeling away until it felt like he could pretend.

His skin raw and red, Oliver climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed a second luxurious towel to rub his hair dry as he walked out into his bedroom. There was a bottle of Johnnie Walker blue label on his desk, and he walked over to it. He picked it up and broke the seal. Taking a swig, he saw the note left next to where it had been sitting. Oliver picked it up and read it over.

"Oliver, I hope you don't mind me leaving this here. Your mother probably wouldn't understand, but you looked like you could use a good, stiff drink. I hope you can accept me as a part of your family. I am so happy that you are alive. All the Best – Walter. P.S., Don't worry about being on time for breakfast tomorrow morning. I have convinced your mother that it is best to let you sleep in," read Oliver. He had only had a few swigs of the amber alcohol, but it was enough to loosen his tongue into saying whatever was on his mind. He vowed to thank Walter in the morning, but, for the meantime, he fished out a pair of boxer briefs, dropped the towel, pulled them on, and sat at the foot of his bed. He continued to swig from the bottle, head hanging and bottle dangling between his knees. He swallowed a few more mouthfuls of the bitter liquid, his head buzzing. He hadn't often had opportunity to drink on the island, so his tolerance was way down, and his head was spinning after a quarter of a bottle. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his crumpled jeans and stared at it. He wondered if he remembered Tatsu's phone number. Or maybe Mrs. Zhang's. They'd be happy to hear from him, that he was alive. Maybe. Mrs. Zhang would be. Tatsu, not so much. He pulled up the screen to dial numbers and dialed in a sequence of numbers that he _knew_ he had dialed before, so they must belong to one of the two Asian women. He clicked the green call button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

 **Felicity**

Felicity was curled up with a tub of mint chocolate chip and a very large bottle of crappy wine. Tears were rolling steadily down her cheeks as Doctor Who played on the television in front of her. The Doctor was making some ridiculous joke, but Felicity just couldn't find it in her to laugh. She looked down at her phone; she couldn't believe that Dick had run off with another woman. They had been together for almost two years, and, in two hours, he had packed up and left her. She sobbed as Amy and Rory were reunited, wanting nothing more than to throw the tub of ice cream at the TV. She took a long pull from the bottle of wine, wincing at the taste of it mixed with the mint ice cream. She took another long pull from the overly large bottle, chasing it down with a huge scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Her phone rang, and she grabbed it, hoping and dreading that it would be Dick. The number was unfamiliar, but she picked up anyway, too far gone to give a shit.

"Hello?"

"You're not Tatsu, or Mrs. Zhang," slurred the man on the other end of the phone. "Who's this?"

"This is Felicity. Who the hell are you?" she replied, wondering if this was some prank by one of her friends. She knew this voice. This voice had made her laugh before, and had given her nightmares a couple years back.

"It – I'm – ah, nevermind, I'll let y'go," he slurred.

"Wait, no. Don't you dare hang up again without an explanation. Not again. If you're who I think you are, then you have a shit load of explaining to do. Start with how you called me when you were dead," she growled into the phone, happy to push her energy towards something other than feeling heartbroken.

"I called you when I was gone? What?" he asked, incredulity in his voice. "Wait, wait, are you that girl Tommy was goin' out with?"

Felicity bared her teeth at the tub of half-melted ice cream in her lap as she spoke, "Oliver. You have called me three times before this; do you remember any of them? You called me two years ago, while you were _dead_. How much do you think that fucks a person up? That a veritable _stranger_ can fuck them up and give them nightmares for _months_ , putting a strain on a brand new relationship that only made it more susceptible to being ruined by a gorgeous redhead genius who can steal away the man you love with just three words. _Three. Fucking. Words._ "

"I-I'm really sorry, I had no idea," he mumbled into the phone. "Look, I don't – I didn't mean to hurt you or ruin anything. I – apparently I remember your number. And I don't know why. I'm sorry; I'll never call again."

Felicity paused, not wanting to end this badly. "Um, wait. Just – save this number. I'm sorry I yelled at you; it's been a stressful day, and you don't deserve that, what with just coming back to civilization and all. You can save me as "Drunk Dial Only" if you want. I can't promise I'll always be able to answer, but, if I can, I'll be here if you need to talk or vent when you've had a few too many." Felicity curled up tighter around the tub of ice cream and took a swig from the bottle of wine, phone pressed tight to her ear.

"I – yeah, that sounds . . . nice. Thank you – I don't remember your name, I'm sorry," he said, his voice distant and broken. Felicity's heart cracked.

 **Oliver**

The woman on the other end of the phone sounded so sad and heartbroken, even through her anger. Oliver could imagine what she was feeling, and he felt responsible. For some of it, at least. He should never have tried to call Thea from China. He managed to ruin someone else, someone he sort of knew, by doing it. He took a long pull from the bottle as the silence grew more and more pregnant.

"Felicity. My name's Felicity."

 _A/N – Hey loves! I hope you enjoy this chapter_ _There's gonna be one more afterwards, and I might write up some of Felicity's dates with Tommy, just for kicks. I'm still working on the Bucky/Darcy fic, and I'm starting a Bones-Supernatural crossover, too. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm so thankful for all of the support on this fic. All my love- Rose_


	5. Chapter 5

_February 14, 2014_

 **Felicity**

Felicity grimaced as she stood up from her desk chair in the basement of Verdant. Her heels were pinching her feet, and all she wanted was to go revel in the loneliness of Valentine's Day with a pint of Coffee Toffee Crunch and a six pack of craft beer. Normally, she was a wine girl, but Valentine's Day was a special occasion that called for beer and drunken obliviousness.

"Hey, Felicity, you look nice," said Sara as she walked into the lair, stripping her cat suit off of her body to expose her black sweat-soaked tank top and red spandex shorts. "Got a hot date?"

Felicity snorted and rolled her eyes, smoothing her skirt. "Sure, Ben and Jerry are picking me up when I get home, and they're going to accompany me as I down a six pack of Horny Devil." Sara looked at her, eyebrow raised. "It's a Belgian beer. An ex introduced me to it, and I've loved it ever since. I drink it on Valentine's Day as a big 'fuck you' to all of the guys that romanced me with wine in the past."

"Sounds like a good plan," laughed Sara, grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the shower. She closed the door just as Oliver and Dig made their way down the stairs.

"I gotta get home to Lyla; you guys gonna close up shop down here?" he asked, moving to the desk where his monitor sat to strip and clean his gun.

"Yeah, I got it," said Sara, coming out of the bathroom after what had to have been the quickest shower in the history of ever. She winked at Felicity and said, "After all, Felicity's got a hot date tonight, so let's not keep her here longer than she has to be."

Felicity grinned as she grabbed her peacoat from the back of her chair and slipped it on. She felt Oliver's eyes on her as she turned to grab her purse and phone. She saw him shucking his t-shirt, somehow already wearing a pair of sweats. "Hot date?" he asked as he went to hang up his suit.

"Yeah, and she's gonna be late if she doesn't go now," interjected Sara, just as Felicity was about to speak. Felicity just rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs.

"Bye, guys, have a good Valentine's Day!" she called over her shoulder, car keys in hand. She climbed into her car, tossed her purse into the passenger seat, and turned her music up. "Talking Body" by Tove Lo was on the radio, and she began to belt out the chorus. "Now if we're talkin' body," she sang, turning to pull out of her spot and begin the drive home. "You've got a perfect one so put it on me. If you love me right, we fuck for life, on and on and on…"

 **.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.**

Felicity pulled into her spot outside of her apartment building, locked the car, and went inside. Once through her door, she locked it and began to strip as she made her way to her bedroom. First to go were her heels, next her coat, then she unzipped her pencil skirt. It fell to the floor as she stepped out of it and began working at the buttons on her blouse. The blue top hit the floor right outside her bedroom, where she pulled an old baseball jersey from her closet and pulled it on. She buttoned it halfway and slid on a pair of knee high white socks covered with tiny red and pink hearts. That was the only real concession to Valentine's Day that she allowed herself. Walking into the bathroom, she washed her makeup off and slid on the plain pair of glasses she kept at home, which she didn't mind getting bent up if she passed out on the couch. The large black frames weren't her favorite, but, after she had broken her fourth pair of glasses passing out on the couch after too much wine. Wrangling her hair into a messy bun, Felicity went to the kitchen to grab the ice cream and beer before she curled up on the couch with a big stack of Marvel movies. She popped open her first beer, taking a swig of the liquid in the reddish brown glass bottle. She grimaced as the first swallow burned its way down her throat. Digging her spoon into the ice cream, she flipped on the first movie and settled in.

 **Oliver**

Oliver was sitting in the kitchen with an Oreo milkshake in front of him. Raisia smiled at him as she finished pulling the last batch of cookies out of the oven. "I could have finished those up for you, Raisia," he remarked as he hollowed his cheeks around the straw to take a pull of the milkshake. He felt like he was four years old again, and he relished it.

"No, don't worry about it. I wanted to," she replied. "Besides, how else am I going to get cookies to my husband for Valentine's Day?" She grinned, taking some of the cooled cookies and wrapping them up on a plate. "Now, take some to your lovely Felicity tomorrow, Oliver," she said, smiling at him cheekily.

"Happy Valenitne's Day, Raisia," laughed Oliver, pecking the housemaid and cook on the cheek. "Drive safe, alright?" The woman waved as she bustled out of the kitchen, leaving Oliver to his own devices. The vigilante just smiled, taking another pull of the milkshake in front of him. His phone began to ring in that moment, and he pulled it from his pocket, squinting at the caller ID. It read "Drunk Dial Chick", and he swiped right to answer it. "Hello?"

"Oliv'r?" slurred a familiar voice. "Hey, what're you doing? Cause I'm outta wine. An' beer."

"Felicity?" he asked, bewildered.

"Noooo, it's Paris Hilton," she giggled into the phone.

Oliver just sat there, thinking, as Felicity babbled on and on about how she was _totally_ Paris Hilton and not his assistant. He waited for her to pause before he finally interjected. "You – you're the girl I've been drunk dialing all of these years?"

"Well, _duhhh_. You are dense," she slurred. "Now, get your ton'd ass over 'ere, an' bring me more alcohol." Oliver just grinned as he stood up and walked over to the bar area. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and jammed his feet into his shoes.

"I can be there in five minutes with vodka," he offered.

"Sounds good t'me," she replied. "I'll introduce you t'my favr'te shows, an' maybe then y'can be caught up on culture." Oliver laughed as he grabbed his keys and headed to the car.

"Oh really? Sounds like a plan."

 _A/N- Hey loves! So, here's the end of this fic_ _I hope you guys enjoyed it. I know the end was a bit lackluster, but I didn't want to make it too mushy and shit. I'm not a big fan of the mushy stuff lately. Thank you to all of those who read/reviewed this fic. I don't know if I would have finished it without your support. I love you all, and I hope you'll come back for my next fics. All my love - Rose_


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